My thoughts on the reality of teenage career dreams and studying again at 36

 

If you had told me at 18 that I would end up studying again at 36 and working in the financial services industry, I probably would have spat out my coffee and fallen to the floor in a fit of laughter and pure disbelief.

I had dreams, you see—wild, artsy dreams. I made my own jewellery and had been sketching and sewing since I could first hold a needle and thread in primary school. I had envisioned a life as a fashion designer long before I knew what the real world looked like, and I was determined to make that dream my reality.

Then life happened. I fell pregnant at the end of matric with my eldest son, but I was blessed with parents who believed in my dreams and wanted me to have a future that was not defined only by becoming a young mom.

But two years in, reality hit hard. The dream I had clung to for so long didn’t look anything like I imagined. As much as I loved art and design—and still do—my sewing machine quickly became my mortal enemy. Garment and pattern construction gave me so much anxiety that the passion I had carried for years evaporated almost overnight. I was exhausted, trying to navigate being a mom (pregnant with my second son), a wife, working nights and weekends, and studying full-time.  Letting go of that dream was painful, but necessary.

Fast forward to 36: I had found myself in the financial services industry after working my way up from reception, and—shockingly—I enjoyed it. So, when I was given the opportunity to study again, I grabbed it with both hands and ran.

Two years later, I have just completed my degree. It has been a ride—particularly trying to finish my final year while my eldest has been navigating the chaos of matric himself.

Has it been easy? Hell no. Making time every single day to study, learning new skills, and stepping far outside my comfort zone has been both humbling and empowering. But I did it. And in doing so, I’ve shown my children that it is never too late to reinvent yourself. That anything is possible when you put your mind to the grind, pull up your big-girl panties, and just get on with it.

There were nights when I wanted to throw my hands in the air and cry, “I don’t wanna!”—and trust me, the tears were very real.

But I kept going. And crossing this finish line has been one of the proudest moments of my life.

So, here’s to second chances, unexpected paths, and the courage to begin again—no matter how many detours life throws your way.

 

So where are we now?

I looked back, and it’s been three years since I last posted. Honestly, I didn’t think it had been that long, and I have no idea where to start.

A lot has happened. I have a child—well, a young adult (still my child)—who is one week away from completing his matric finals. MIND BLOWN!!! I can’t be the only parent who has those moments of how on earth did we get here? Where did the time go? and how did we go from non-stop trauma responses to where we are today?

A young adult who has made me so incredibly proud. To have come this far, when there was once a time I would ask myself every day how we were ever going to reach this point. But we did—and we have—and I cannot stress enough how proud I am of my child.

Independent, albeit a tad socially awkward, he has a solid group of friends. He navigated his first long-term relationship and the subsequent heartbreak. He’s made it through his matric year with very little support, as an online student no less. He has a good heart and is always willing to help others. I am just incredibly proud of him.

My youngest has just turned 12 and has officially entered the teen era. I joke daily that we rarely see him outside of his cocoon, or sanctum, which he has created within his room during the week. He kind of reminds me of an old man, to be honest. He has his daily routine: he comes home from school, jumps in the bath, and then retreats—with lunch, a cup of coffee, and school books in hand. He dives into his bed with the fan on, and that’s where he stays until we come home or he is pulled into a late afternoon game by a friend. He is complex to say the least, a social butterfly who is perfectly content to hold his own company when he chooses.

On the other hand, when it comes to weekends, I feel like I’ve become a full-time taxi service because this child has a bigger social life and calendar than anyone else in the household. The thing is, I can’t really complain when he brings home straight A’s and spends his weekends outdoors—playing with friends and embracing the essence of childhood in all its glory.

And my middle llama—well, he remains my llama. The one who reminds me most of myself at his age in so many ways. The laughter he brings into my life every day is something I could never replace. He competed in the Western Province trials last year and achieved Western Province colours for running. He made it all the way to the finals, but had to drop out due to shock when the temperature dropped to just a few degrees, and the kids were still forced to run in shorts and t-shirts. It was a harsh blow, and he came home heartbroken—but I am incredibly proud of him for pushing through and achieving as much as he did.

On my front, it’s been a time of learning—the difference between what lifts us up and what brings us down. It’s been a hard lesson, and it’s come with many difficult life decisions. But I think, and maybe this comes with age, that even though it can be incredibly painful to cut people from your life and make choices you wish you didn’t have to, in the end, it’s an act of self-love and acknowledgment. A lesson in setting boundaries and knowing that you can and will move forward.

I recently completed a business degree at the ripe old age of 37. I never thought I’d get here, or that I’d achieve this, or even have the opportunity to do so. It has opened the door to a career and purpose I never imagined entering into—and it’s something I genuinely enjoy. It suits my OCD and personality perfectly.

I’m also well into my health journey era, and I have to say that after many years of yo-yo dieting and disordered eating, this journey has been about finding peace, strength, and health—separate from weight loss and free from toxic ideas about meeting society’s expectations. This has been such a different experience, and it’s something I’d like to talk about more in-depth going forward.

I lost my ouma this year, which was very hard. To be honest, I don’t really see much of my extended family anymore. I tend to keep to my small circle, and that’s the way I like it. However, losing my ouma sparked something in me—a moment of what ifs, a flood of sweet memories mixed with sadness at the thought that it’s not just about me. It’s also about my children, and whether they might one day want to know their extended family—to understand where they come from, to hear the stories and feel connected to the roots that shaped us. It made me realise how quickly time passes, and how easily those family ties can fade if we don’t make the effort to keep them alive.